


Forbidden

by velmavendetta



Category: Loki (movies), Loki - Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Necromancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:56:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velmavendetta/pseuds/velmavendetta
Summary: Dark magic breeds difficult decisions.I have added the graphic violence tag mostly because of the magical subject matter, necromancy is a very taboo subject for some. This is pre-Avengers Loki.





	1. Found

-Thanadyr's POV-

I pace in my hut, waiting for the sun to start its nightly disappearance. I check my cloak for the fifth time, making sure the hood was up and its inner pockets have the herbs and tools I need; there's no room for mistakes tonight. My hands start shaking and my breath quickens. This new spell could rip my soul in two, permanently, but the risk is necessary. All of this is necessary. I look through my small window - the sun has finally set enough that I can rely on the dense forest to keep me unseen. I take one last look around my hut, and after another deep breath, I leave, walking slowly to my destination.

I keep my head hidden in the shadows of my hood,constantly listening for disturbances that signal I'm being followed. There are a few times I stop and hold my breath, waiting for someone to announce their presence, only to see a large bird or a cat cross my path. I continue silently through the thick woods, searching the ground for the signs I've familiarized myself with since news of the ending battle reached my ears. The moon is now firmly above me, full and bouncing off of the white skin of my bare feet.

After some time, I find the thin, barely noticeable path I'd been looking for and follow it until I'm standing behind a large, ornate cottage. I look around again, assuring myself that I am alone. I make quick work finding what I need; he was a warrior, passing in battle just a few days prior. His corpse is still fresh enough, yet his soul remains firmly in Valhalla. I wonder briefly if he is watching me work, or if his spirit is too busy in its revelry of the afterlife. I manage to drag the large body to the edge of the woods, out of sight from the door of the cottage but still within the light of the full moon. I drop the hood of my cloak and open it, removing the herbs I need and my athame. I open his shirt and carve my sigil into the warrior's chest to begin my ritual.

"Reida af daudr, nar - nalgask minn," I murmur, over and over again, changing my tone until the sigil impregnated with herbs on the corpse begins to glow. The white light illuminates my face and I smile; I've done it. I stand, and the corpse stands with me. His movements are sharp and unnatural, befitting an undead puppet. I can see that the sigil continues to glow, faintly now. I instruct the corpse to close his shirt, effectively covering the soft white glow of the active sigil. My heart is pounding and my smile reaches both eyes. I realize that I'm still uncovered and I pull my cloak back over my body, covering me from the moonlight once again. I instruct my corpse to follow me, and we slowly move deeper into the woods, back to my hut. I know I don't have much time to play with my newly made toy and I intend on making the most of my time. The warrior's funeral was supposed to be at dawn, and without a body, there can be no funeral. The villagers will be furious, no doubt, but they don't know I'm here. Once I'm done with the body, I will return him, but until then I will have my fun. 

I will learn all there is to know about my magic until he decays past the point of use. Then they can burn their precious warrior. 

 

-Loki's POV-

I often spend my evenings walking the woods surrounding the palace and nearby village. It provides me time to think and practice unhindered. This night was no different, except that I'd gone much further than I intended while lost in thought. I continued to walk, hoping to find something new. I found a small path that led to a tiny hut deep in the forest. It was clear that this was more than a small hunter's hut - an herb garden recently pruned, a chimney still leaking smoke, and the distinct sound of pacing within. Curiosity gripped me when I saw a hooded figure exit the hut and weave through the dense woods, and I followed it.

I crept silently through the brush after the figure. It was obvious after a few moments that it was a woman - she was extremely nervous, and for some reason, barefoot. The rising moonlight lit up the skin of her feet and ankles and I noticed her skin shone like fresh snow. She clutched her cloak closer to her when she heard noises in the trees around her, instantly calming when an animal crossed her path. She picked up her stride when her feet found a small, barely-used path that cut quickly through the rest of the forest. I continued past her exit in the brush, finding a felled log to sit on and watch her.

Now, here I am watching her work. Shock coursed through my body when I saw her drag a corpse to the edge of the woods, and once again when she dropped her hood. She is beautiful, and clearly Asgardian, but much paler than even myself. Everything about her is white, including her eyes. I watch her carve into the chest of the warrior corpse, and I see her muttering to herself. I quickly cast a spell to improve my hearing-  
"... daudr, nar - nalgask minn. Reida af daudr, nar - nalgask minn"

It doesn't take Heimdall to know that she's reanimating a corpse. She's a necromancer, and a new one at that. It takes her a few tries to get the spell right, and when she does, a bright white light illuminates her face for a moment. I can see a beautiful smile gracing her features in that moment, and I can't help but smile with her, knowing the joy that comes from successfully completing difficult magic. 

I allow surprise to envelope me as I watch her and her miscreation walk back into the woods. She's very young and very beautiful for a necromancer; I was always taught that legitimate necromancers gave up pieces of themselves to become such, and the first thing to go was usually physical beauty. Not to mention that succeeding as one takes millennia, whereas she couldn't be older than a few centuries. 

Desperate to know more about this gorgeous necromancer, I put a trace on her while she was still in sight. I'd like to know what she plans to do with her corpse. I watch her disappear into the woods, and then I dematerialize, reappearing in the familiar walls of my bedroom.


	2. Experimentation

-Thanadyr's POV-

I spent the next two days experimenting with my creation. How fast can he move, how strong is he, how damage resistant? I learn that an army of warrior corpses would be even more formidable and terrifying than a traditional army. Faster when imbued with magic, stronger, more resilient - it helps that they don't feel pain or have wills of their own. 

No wonder almost all of society shuns necromancy - the leader of a legion of undead would be unstoppable. 

 

"Sitja," I whispered to the warrior corpse. He folded into himself and sat cross-legged in the corner of my hut, awaiting instruction. I pulled my hood over my head and placed a few pieces of gold in the inner pockets of my cloak. I reluctantly slid on a pair of slippers and a long pair of gloves. I don't like walking with shoes on; it prevents me from feeling death underneath me, but walking barefoot in town would definitely attract unwanted attention.

The walk to town was a long but easy one. I hummed to myself, an old bar song I'd heard over my many years living in alleyways. The sun was high in the sky, and I pulled the gloves further up my arms. While my skin's luminescence in any light is pleasing to look at, it's also a sure sign to what I am. A manipulator of death, a creator of abominations, an aberration to all things alive. I smiled wryly to myself, as there's nothing I could do to make it less obvious outside of wearing clothing. The Black Magic coursing in my veins was given to me in my mother's womb. I was cursed the moment I greeted the world. I sometimes wondered what my mother did that caused the Allfather to curse her unborn child with a life of solitude and hatred, but never thought too intensely on it. She ultimately paid for her mistakes.

The sight greeting me in the village is one of panic and sadness. Villagers were mourning the loss of their warrior and his body. I suppressed my smile and turned into the herbalists at my right. 

The man behind the counter greeted me with a loud 'Hello!' and I ignored him. I walked to the farthest corner of the expansive room and searched for the herbs I needed, ones that require greenhouses and minerals that I do not have. 

"Herbalist," I addressed the man, "I need yarrow and tarantaem, do you carry them?"

The herbalist stared at me, apprehension in his face. 

"I do carry them, however I am reluctant to sell them, especially to someone I cannot see," the man said haughtily. 

"I cannot lower my hood, I have a sensitivity to light," I scoffed, irritated that my interaction with this man is continuing.

"I will not sell to you if I cannot see your face," the man pushed.

"I have the coin, old man, sell me the herbs!" I demanded, my fingers itching to dead hand him and rob him for his gall.

As I spoke, the color drained out of the man's face. He was no longer looking at me, but at whoever had come in moments before. The stranger spoke.

"You'll sell her the herbs she needs, regardless of her state of dress, herbalist," the stranger spoke, his voice smooth and dangerous like poisoned honey. 

The man nods and goes into a back room to retrieve my deadly herbs and I turn to face the man that has terrified the herbalist. He is tall, much more so than I, with black hair and startlingly green eyes. His thin lips are pulled into a smirk, and I recognize him as my prince. I immediately bow.

"Prince Loki," I begin, "thank you, but that was unnecessary."

"Nonsense, I wouldn't have someone sensitive to light be forced to endure the pain of it for some simple herbs," he mocks, the smile widening and showing perfectly white teeth. 

The herbalist came rushing back into the main room carrying two small jars of dried herbs. Prince Loki reached in front of me before I could get my arm out of my cloak and placed a few gold pieces on the counter. I stared at him, wondering why he chose to pay for my herbs after he'd already gone out of his way to procure them for me. The thought crossed my mind that he knew me already and intended to exploit me, but I quickly shook that terrifying thought away. If the Prince knew what magic I carried, I'd already be dead. 

Loki took the herbs from the man and held them out to me, his expression unreadable. I held one hand out through the front of my cloak and took one jar at a time, placing them firmly in the inner pockets.

"Thank you, Your Highness," I said, barely above a whisper. I bowed lightly and turned to the door, intent on leaving before he started asking why I needed herbs like yarrow and tarantaem.

"So, tell me sorceress, why do you need herbs such as those?" the Prince asked, following me out onto the street. Of course.

"Who tells you I am a sorceress?" I asked, walking to a nearby tree line.

"No one tells me, I can feel your magic pulsing off of you," Loki murmured so only I could hear. I stood still, my heart falling to my stomach. 

"What do you mean, Your Highness?" I asked, my voice caught in my throat.

"I know what magic you practice, Sorceress," the Prince purred, moving so that he was right in front of my face, his lips a breath from mine, "or should I say Necromancer?" I stared up into his gloriously green eyes and said the only thing I could think of.

"Feldr minn," I whispered, and vanished in front of him. I turned and ran before I could see the look of surprise on his angular face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the Old Norse translations! (These are approximations)
> 
> reida af daudr, nar - nalgask minn = rise from the dead, corpse - come to me  
> sitja = stay here  
> feldr minn = cloak/hide me (her version of an invisibility spell)


	3. Beginnings

-Loki's POV-

"Feldr minn," she whispered, and she disappeared. I could still see a faint line through the woods as she ran from me, a residual trail of magic that she left behind. 

"So powerful, and so messy," I murmured to myself. It was clear she had no formal training. Her raw power leaked from her every pore and left a mark wherever she went and it was intoxicating. I cloaked myself and followed her trail again, chasing her through the woods to her home. 

She stopped just before her hut and looked around, anxiety in her eyes. I strode to a nearby tree within her sight, leaned against it, and uncloaked myself. She screamed.

"Shhh!" I ran to her, "why are you screaming?''

She dropped to her knees in front of me and a tear fell from her eye.

"Please don't execute me, Your Highness," she pleaded, honest fear in her face. Her magic poured out of her and blanketed me in its essence. The feeling was almost arousing in its intimate nature. I reached down and pulled her to her feet, bringing her closer to me than she was before she disappeared.

"I'm not going to kill you, Necromancer. I want to teach you how to control the magic pummeling through and out of you," I explained, soaking in the feeling of being surrounded by her.

She relaxed into me and confusion colored her features. She pulled away from me just enough to look into my face and I was struck again with how odd her eyes were; totally white, with no pupil or iris. I wondered if she had traditional sight or relied on something else.

"What do you mean?" she asked, pulling me from my thoughts. I leaned into her and opened the door to her hut. Her corpse warrior sat in his corner, patiently waiting for her instructions.

"I'm going to teach you how to harness your power to perform stronger spells and to keep yourself from being found on magic alone," I explained. She stood there in my arms, baffled and afraid.

"I followed you before, I watched you create him," I said, nodding to the corpse warrior. 

Her mouth dropped in surprise. "But I was so careful!" she yelled. She was becoming agitated and her magic was swirling around us, growing in strength.

"Calm down, Necromancer, I didn't want to be found. Therefore, you didn't find me. I can teach you to do the same," I placated her. 

She stood still for a few seconds, lips pursed in thought.

"Thanadyr," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?" 

"My name is Thanadyr."

"Well, Thanadyr, we have work to do," I declared.

I took her hand and brought her into her small hut, and we began our lessons.

\-----------------------------

We spent weeks practicing together. What began as simple lessons in magical suppression turned into teaching her more complex magic like teleportation, and her beginning to teach me simple necromancy skills. I learned that not all necromancy is as I was taught; she was able to bring dead and wilting plants back to their previous glory and she taught me how to follow the feeling of death in search of large game. I was enthralled with the young and beautiful necromancer and ached to know more about her.

"Tell me, Necromancer-" I began.

"Thanadyr," she corrected.

"Tell me, Necromancer, from whence do you hail? I feel as though Asgard isn't your home," I asked.

Her face fell some and I could see darkness pass over her figure.

"Asgard has been my home since birth," she said. 

I pressed her for more information, and every answer she gave felt more and more like a half-truth. She disconnected further with every query and eventually, I gave up. She'd tell me when she wanted, I supposed, or she wouldn't tell me at all. I resigned to barely knowing and decided to continue lessons, which she jumped to with the enthusiasm she lost during my questioning.

As the sun began its descent, I said my farewells to her for the day. Each time I came and left, I felt her eyes linger on my form and wondered if she was feeling the attraction I was.

 

Teleportation was as simple as breathing for me, and I knew she hoped I'd teach her enough that she could do it with such ease. Moving from just outside of her sight to the woods within the palace took no energy from me, whereas such a distance would sap most of her power. I smiled at the thought of continuing my lessons with her until she was as powerful as myself. 

"Brother!" I heard a familiar voice echo through the trees.

"Brother!" I hailed, catching a glimpse of blonde amongst the green. It took no time for Thor to find me in the brush.

"You've been gone since morning and the sun has nearly set, where have you been?" he inquired. I began walking towards the palace doors.

"I've been in the woods, brother," I said, smirking.

"Ah, Loki, you rogue, what tavern maiden have you ruined today?"

"None, you heel, I've simply been in the woods with my thoughts."

"No thoughts of yours make you smile such without a woman being the cause," Thor teased.

I shot a look at Thor that promised violence as we passed the door guards. "Quiet until we aren't in questionable company, brother," I growled. 

Thor laughed aloud, the sound bouncing off of the Great Hall walls. He followed me into the smaller dining room that we used for everyday.

"Okay," I began, "before you assume, keep an open mind."

Thor looked at me with amusement in his eyes, "Loki, if it isn't a wench, but a swain, it is okay."

I glared at him. "It is a woman, but she is no wench," I threatened. He put his hands up and chuckled.

"She...," I took a breath, "she is a commoner."

Thor blinked at me once and burst into laughter again. 

"A commoner! Prince Loki of Asgard, the greatest prince of all, above every living being, in love with a commoner! I don't fall for it, brother," he exclaimed.

"I am not in love with her, and I do not think I am above every living being!"

"Come now, let me meet the common wench that has stolen Loki's heart!"

"I am not in love, and she is not a wench!" I yelled, throwing a plate into Thor's chest. Anger rose in his eyes.

"You missed practice today, are you intending on getting some in today by starting a fight?" Thor warned. I stood in front of him, nose to nose.

"Call her a wench again, and you'll see that I don't need practice every day to beat you."

"It's not my fault that you've fallen for a common wench," Thor said, anger and glee shimmering in his eyes.

I threw the first punch, and it landed firmly on his jaw. He staggered back and looked up at me with a feral smile on his face. He ran towards me and tackled me into the table, breaking the china on it and cracking the leg. The Allfather and Frigga burst into the dining room upon hearing the commotion. I shoved Thor off of me and into a large vase, breaking it. Just as Thor oriented himself to charge me again, the Allfather stepped between the two of us and teleported us to our quarters. 

I cried out in rage and punched my door, beyond angry that I was sent to my room like a child. Rage and hatred pulsed through my veins in quantities I'd never experienced before, and I wasn't sure why. My fear only furthered the fierce emotions. I punched my door again, leaving a dent in the thick wood this time, before turning and facing myself in a floor length mirror. 

I was blue.

The Allfather barged into my room in that moment, only for me to turn and face him with my blood red eyes boring into his one clear blue eye. 

"What am I?" I screamed. His shoulders slumped and he reached out towards me, attempting to grab my shoulder. I stepped away from him, moving further into my room.

"Son-" he began.

"Son?" I howled, "Look at me! What am I?" 

The Allfather looked at me wearily, but made no attempt to explain, and in that moment I was gone.

 

I stood in front of a familiar hut - recently pruned herb garden, chimney leaking smoke, but without the distinct sound of pacing within. I opened the door without announcing myself and saw her sitting at the table she and I sat at not even an hour before. I saw her eyes scan my form and comprehension bloom on her face. She moved to stand in front of me. I could feel her breath on my neck, her hands ghosting up my arms.

"Your Highness," she whispered.

"Loki," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat, "I am no Prince."

And suddenly, her hands were in my hair and her lips were on mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long time, life gets in the way and I've never been good at regular updates.


	4. Outcast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some overlap between chapters 3 and 4, just to clarify some thoughts and feelings. There will most likely always be some overlap when POV changes.

-Thanadyr's POV-

An emptiness settled in my chest when Loki left after our lesson. I wanted to reach out to him as we said goodbye, to touch him.  _What's wrong with me? Why do I feel so.... alone?_  The hollow feeling unnerved me, and I chose to distract myself by playing with my corpse warrior.

"Um," I commanded, and my warrior lumbered to my side. 

"Fylgja," I commanded, holding my hand above my head and taking a step forward. The warrior's arm jerked above his head and stepped forward, just as I had. 

I spent time practicing with its movements, attempting to make them smoother and give them more purpose. As the minutes ticked by, I could feel exhaustion creeping in. I sat at the small table near my window and watched the warrior sit in an invisible chair next to me. 

"Standa," I said wearily. It moved to its corner and stood there, waiting for my next command. I wondered if I'd be able to control it with my thoughts by the end of my lessons with Loki. 

A pang of sadness hit my heart again. The end of lessons with Loki. Of course there would be an end, he is the Prince of Asgard and I was nothing but an outcast. I was a stain on Asgard's golden reputation. A necromancer. A child born of a corpse. Loki would never choose a creature like me. 

Why did I want him to? I spent my entire life alone, why would I suddenly desire someone's company? 

Oh, but what wonderful company he was. I let out a sigh, and then suddenly felt his presence, like an icy wind in the summer. Something was wrong.

Before I could move, he was through my door. His eyes caught me first; what were once a brilliant shade of green were now blood red. His skin was blue and covered in tattoos, and he was radiating with frigid, hateful magic. The pain in his face was undeniable, the rage in his stance was clear. The great Prince Loki was Jotunn, and he was beautiful. I walked towards him, slowly. I could feel the cold pulsing off of his skin, and I slid my hands up his arms without touching him. I saw my breath when I exhaled near him.

"Your Highness," I whispered, in awe of him more now than before.

"Loki," he choked, "I am no Prince." 

My heart swelled and I met his eyes again. Before I knew what I was doing, my hands were in his hair and my lips were on his, and oh how cold they were. Surprise coursed through him for a moment and then his hands were at my waist, in my hair, all over my body, and he was kissing me back. _He was kissing me back._  I felt his wintry skin grow warmer as he pushed me into a wall. I opened my eyes and saw green. 

"Loki," I sighed. He pulled back and saw that his skin was porcelain again. His hand cupped my face and his lips met my neck.

"What am I going to do with you, Necromancer?" he whispered, his breath still cold. 

"Whatever you want, Your Highness," I breathed, curious to see where he'd take this. He pressed his body closer into mine, and I could feel every plane of him. I knew then I'd crave the sensation for the rest of my life. He pulled away from me and pulled a chair out, nodding for me to sit.

"So, Necromancer," he began, taking a seat in front of me, "I think now is a good time for us to get to know one another better."

"What do you mean?" I asked. I knew he knew I'd been lying to him.

"Tell me about yourself. None of the half truths. You have no reason to be afraid of me now, because you have information on me that would lead to my execution, too," he said calmly. I took a deep breath and looked into his eyes again.

"You are Jotunn," I began.

"Yes, I am, but that has nothing to do with-" he said, irritation lacing his tone.

"I'm not finished," I cut at him, "You are Jotunn. You were lied to your whole life by your family about who you are. I had no such luxury."

He said nothing, but leaned towards me as if to encourage me to continue.

"I was born cursed," I began again, "My mother angered the Allfather while I was in her womb, and he cursed my existence. I don't know why, I never got a chance to ask. When she knew I was going to be born with black magic running through my veins, she went into hiding. She tried everything to reverse what was done, or so I was told, and when she couldn't, she decided that killing me was better than letting me live a cursed life. She tried to kill me by killing herself. The villagers got to her first. Moments after her death, her corpse birthed me, and my fate was sealed. I was to live a life with death surrounding me. The villagers left me there to die with her.

One of the women in the group that killed her came back for me in the night and masked my appearance some. She left me at the doors of an orphanage right outside of the palace. The first woman to find me figured out who I was quickly, but didn't kill me. I was raised there, being told of my fate and how horrid my existence was every day. When I was old enough to fend for myself, I was pushed into the streets. I stayed there until I found this hut. I stole a book on basic magic from a home nearby and cultivated what I have. I learned everything on my own, until you came."

He leaned back into the chair, a look of stunned recognition on his face.

"You are the corpse birth child," he whispered, his eyes roaming over my face as if he was searching for something.

"I suppose so."

"Well then, that would mean that you're only..." he trailed off.

"I am young, yes."

"My father thinks you are dead, and yet you've lived just outside of his gates your whole life. How did you manage?" Loki asked.

"When I lived in the orphanage and on the streets, my hair was darkened with soot or dirt and my eyes were illusioned brown instead of white. When I found this place, I chose not to continue the illusions." 

"Remarkable."

His praise flooded my system and sped my heart rate. The corpse warrior shuffled in his corner, feeling the magical energy in the room. I reigned my magic in and commanded it to sit and cease movements. 

"You've been learning very quickly, Thanadyr. I'd like to propose something to you," Loki said, danger in every word. It was my turn to lean in towards him.

"Yes?"

"I want to destroy the Allfather, and I want you to help me."


	5. Plans

"What?" I gasped, "Why? How? It's impossible"

"Not as impossible as he'd have you believe," Loki said. "He kills what he fears, and fears most things he does not understand. It is only a matter of overwhelming him, of making his fears so real and devastating that he has no choice but to try and kill them with the entire kingdom fighting for him. Only they won't die-"

I cut him off.

"Because they'll already be dead," I mumbled, my body frozen. This is why he wanted to swell my powers. He was not interested in me.

"Precisely," he smirked, leaning back in his chair.

"Is that why you were 'so intrigued' with me?" I asked, irritation lacing my tone.

"Wha-?" he began. I stared at him and my anger grew with each passing second. The corpse in the corner shifted with the sudden shift in magical energy.

"No! No, I truly found you interesting. I find you interesting, I just thought that our powers combined might be enough," Loki stuttered. His silver tongue failed him, and I felt truth in his words. The corpse in the corner relaxed, as did the Prince in front of me.

"Very well," I stood in front of my corpse toy, "where do we begin?"

"First, we must begin raising an army," he planned, counting points on his fingers.

"Then, we must find a place to hide them until we use them. You don't worry about that, I know Asgard better than almost anyone and I will find a place."

"And the actual attack?" I asked. "When do we fight? Will I be ready?"

"I will make sure you are. All you need worry about is honing your skills and becoming more powerful each day. I will worry about the rest," he assured, running his fingers through my hair.

\-----------

The next few months were purely training. Loki spent most of his free time with me, teaching me how to hone and hide my magic. I was flourishing under his guidance, and when he was gone, I ached for his presence. We had successfully raised six more Aesir warrior corpses and discarded the first one. We burned him to ensure no one knew there was a necromancer near - if anyone were to come searching, everything would have been in vain.

I adored my new corpses. I kept their skin and joints flexible with herbs and patched any injuries they received from practice battles. Loki found it amusing how much I doted on them, and hinted that he thought I'd make a fine mother. I laughed and joked at what dark children they would be. I had begun to hope that those children would one day be real.

"Necromancer!" Loki jollied, calling me to the edge of the woods by my hut.

"Yes, my Prince?" I jested back.

"I have a training game today, young one. I want to see how truly adept you have become at shielding yourself," he said, gesturing to the forest behind him. After a moment, I understood.

"Are you suggesting a game of hide and seek, Loki?"

"I am," he smiled, "and the rules are thus; should I fail to find you before sundown, I have a surprise for you. Should I find you, the surprise is no more."

"And how do I know if this surprise is worth my effort?"

The look in his eyes was gleefully wicked.

"Oh, my sweet Thanadyr, it is. You have until I get to 10," he closed his eyes and started counting.

I willed my feet silent through the underbrush and took off. When I heard him get to 9, I shielded my magic and heard him groan; he thought I was going to be an easy win. I continued to run for ages until I didn't recognize the forest any longer, and then slithered through the forest until I'd reached the end. I could not sense him in any way, but I didn't let that comfort me. I kept walking until I felt it - I was very, very close to the palace charnel house. The sensation of such recent death rocked my focus, and for a split second my shielding dropped, but it was long enough. Loki was by my side in an instant.

"My my, it seems as though you found my surprise anyways. Sneaky girl," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around me. Chills ran up my arms at the sensation.

"What do you mean?" I asked, breathless. "Who has died?"

"My brother, Baldr. It seems as though a terrible accident has occurred. Somehow, Hodr got the idea to practice spear throwing, and hit him, killing him instantly. Hodr will die tomorrow. I want both of them, and you're going to raise them," he whispered again, pressing him body into mine.

"Baldr, the God of Light, will be my undead warrior." I murmured, "That is interesting."

"Since we're already here, I'll be a gracious winner and allow you your surprise even though I won," Loki said.

"Why I am honored, my Prince, but what about the Allfather? Heimdall? Surely they will know?"

"Heimdall is in Vanaheim with Vidarr attempting to smooth out some affront to Odin. The Bifrost is frozen at the moment, anyways, so if he sees, he cannot come back to warn anyone. The Allfather cannot see without Heimdall. All is hidden. Shall we get to work?"

I nodded, and suddenly stood in front of the corpse of the God of Light. Loki shrouded the room to prevent any prying eyes. I carved my sigil into Baldr's chest, chanting and rubbing herbs into it. My volume increased as he started to glow - his soul was not quite gone and was fighting the attempted theft of his corpse. His body rose above his funeral platform, shaking with the force Baldr and I exerted.

"REIDA LIK!" I screamed.

Baldr's corpse fell with such force that the entire platform quaked. For a brief moment, I could hear Baldr's soul weep for his now desecrated body.

"Standa upp," I said, drained from the task before. The corpse of Baldr followed my order with more fluidity than any other corpse I had raised. Loki looked on with amazement. 

"You did it," he whispered, more to himself than me, "you did it." He ran to me and kissed me violently. I wrapped my fingers in his hair and allowed him to press me against the wall behind us. He pulled away breathless.

"Not here, my Necromancer. Soon, someone will come to ready his corpse, and we shouldn't be here when they do," he hummed against my lips.

"To my hut then, my Prince?" I asked.

"No, I have a much better place." And with that, the three of us disappeared.

-Within the Palace-

Frigga awoke with fear ripping through her. She'd just dreamed that Baldr had been stolen from his platform the night before his funeral. Something within her urged her to check - almost as if the cries of Baldr himself willed her to him. She dressed quickly and ran through the palace, waking the groundskeeper. When the tomb was opened, Frigga's scream woke the rest of the palace.

"Wake the Allfather! Baldr is missing. Search the entire palace grounds, wake my sons, find him!"

"Yes my lady," the servants said before rushing off. Mere minutes passed before Thor and Vali were at her side.

"Where is Loki?" Frigga asked.

"We don't know, Mother," Thor said, "he was not in his chambers."

"My lady! The Allfather, he's-" a servant yelled before being interrupted.

"In Odinsleep," Frigga whispered fearfully. Frigga paced around her son's pre-burial chamber. Her other sons and servant looked on, anxiously waiting for her to speak.

"Tell no one the Allfather is in Odinsleep. Leave us," she told her servant. He nodded and obeyed. Frigga stood in front of Baldr's platform, tears wetting the wood.

"Oh, Loki," she whispered, "what have you done?"


End file.
